Oswald's Lady
by G.G. Halcyon
Summary: [WIP / HAITUS] OSWALD/OC. Oswald watched as she stood holding tightly to the gun that shot her killer—and in term saving him as well—and then crumbled to the floor in a heap of tears. He was certain that she very well thought that today was the day that she was to die; unknown to her that he, her very savior, also had a similar near-death experience.


**Title:** Oswald's Lady

**Author:** G.G. Halcyon

**Fandom:** Gotham

**Pairing:** Oswald(Penguin)/OC

**Rating:** T

**Warning: **Suggestive adult themes, foul language, violence

**Publish:** 2014

**Note:** This takes place right after Oswald is "killed" by Gordon and follows his journey out of Gotham and his return to Gotham. I will do my best to keep him in character. There may be some OOCness, and I'm not saying 'sorry' for it ;). Most importantly, I'm in love with how Penguin is portrayed in this show, and I'm determined to get him his lady! I hope you enjoy- it'll be a ridiculous and wild ride. -E.L.

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**CHAPTER 1**

_Life__ is peculiar in the ways that it forces souls to encounter one another in the most hideous of lights. It's filled with __catalysts__ so cruel...__catalysts__ that work to strangle you until you gasp for air and awaken to the reality that you really want to be alive...that you are hungry to be alive. You see, a gun to the head makes any man the wiser and shaken to the importance of living. _

_An encounter with a woman who sees through your darkest of darkness, through your pitted dark soul, and accept in her hearts the monster that you are... well, that is like drinking from the fountain of life, far more stronger than any near-death experience. It is an elixir so powerful that it is __like a __drug that courses through your veins, __making you see a future away from this __retched __place... it is love, it is acceptance... it is__ nothing at all what I felt with Fish Mooney._

_\- __Oswald_

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Oswald Cobblepott was a man with the proper level of sociopathic tendencies that merited his success for survival. He was shrewd, intellectual and calculating by nature, and for this reason he was not surprise that he was still alive and breathing. Detective Gordon spared his life after all. It was exactly as Oswald expected; it was the outcome that he envisioned.

It came to no surprise to Oswald as he remembered the barrel of the gun pressed to his head, and its firing sound piercing his ears as it missed him with intention. It had only been two hours prior, and the near-death incident still flashed in his mind vividly. He had begged for his life by ever-so-greatly playing the coward, the poor and weak simpleton that they expected him to be. Not even for a split second did Oswald doubt the success of that very moment's outcome, and he smiled almost in glee at the very idea that he survived.

Oswald Cobblepott was a survivor.

He plunged into the cold waters of the bay and reemerged from its depths a cast-out man, with no choice but to leave Gotham. He swam onto the shore, and without a second thought murdered a homeless man for his supplies.

He looted the old man's body, took his dried clothes, his food, and other useful supplies, and watched in respectable silence and contemplation as the man's body sank into the depths of the bay. It was just another worthless scum of Gotham that other's wouldn't miss.

He was certain if he hadn't killed the man, another would have. _That is __how it __always is_, he thought to himself. _Kill or be killed, or learn to play dead. _

When the old man's body disappeared from his sight, he continued his journey to leave the home he knew.

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To anyone else the day would have been the worst of their lives. It was day so dreary and so inconceivably horrid that one would wonder how else to continue living. To be a man forced – or better yet – 'killed' and banished from his home ( a home where if found he would yet again be killed) – would be no dream or consolation to anyone.

It was also not a source of inspiration for a man bereft of all that he'd worked for – his reputation, his status, and the boss lady he'd worked for. No, no... To any man, this would have been the day they'd rather have died. This would have been a day shrouded in fear and an immobilizing realization that death may have been a better resolved.

But he was no 'other man'.

To Oswald Cobblepott, this was one of the greatest days of his life. It was a brilliant gift that only surmounted to improve his ego. It confirmed his proof that he in fact was a man of brilliant caliber; that he was a man who knew full well how to read people, how to manipulate, and still survive at the hindrances life threw his way.

This was a him true and true.

The joy he felt from this affirmation helped diminish the strong pain that emanated and throbbed from his leg as he wobbled on. He had grabbed a nearby fallen branch on his venture that assisted him in walking, although this did not help ease the pain...but again he had the uncanny ability to thread forward in his flee until he found himself venturing into the '_Underworld__'_, the mazes of underground tunnels and sewers deep bellow Gotham.

He threaded forward pass the entrance of the tunnels hidden beneath an abandoned bridge which had once been a popular route into the city. Since the restructuring and rebuild of Gotham's freeways, the bridge was closed and awaited demolishment. Thus, the location of the entrance was in an area abandoned and fenced away from the main city center, and was close to the manufacturing areas of Northern Gotham.

Once he entered, Oswald was thankful that it was still light outside, for he doubted he'd find the entrance in the darkness. He was also further thankful for the thorough investigation he gave the homeless man he encountered, for on that old man he found a switch blade, matches, and a tiny flashlight the size of his palm. All of this Oswald kept in the pockets of the stolen jacket he wore.

With one hand holding tightly on his make-shift walking stick, and the other grasping the lit flashlight, Oswald trekked deeper into the tunnels, unsure of where it would take him, but certain it was the proper way to leave Gotham undetected.

For a brief moment he stopped and turned around and noted the faint circle of the light at the entrance of the tunnel, which appeared very far from where he now stood. There was no turning back now, and Oswald knew that if he walked further, he would soon no longer see that entrance, and would be fully at the mercy of the Underworld, a place he was so unfamiliar with. He prayed he could easily maneuver out of such unfamiliar territory.

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He must have been walking for a few hours down the same long tunnel and was surprised that he met no one else in his path, except the rats that would periodically scowler pass him to and forth. The underground tunnels were damp and cold, and smelled of a stench all too putrid that Oswald was grateful for his nose becoming accustomed to it until he no longer smell.

He walked the same tunnel for so long, and had yet to come face to face with other paths to converging tunnels, that he almost wondered if perhaps the path out of Gotham was truly as simple as a one-path straight-forward route.

This was proven wrong however, when finally his light shown on a fork on his trail. The tunnel now split between the right and the left path. The right tunnel was blocked by heavy bars running from the top of the ceiling and into the bottom. A sign to the left of the tunnel indicated that it led towards the center of Gotham, near the trains. The left path showed no signs near it and at no other choice, Oswald trekked through, his flashlight still shining towards him, his walk slow and steady, although still limped from his injury.

As he walked more, in the darkness, he finally heard _her_. Her scream echoed in the tunnels—and he heard a sound of struggle, two men's rough voices, and he stopped in his tracks immediately and turned off his flashlight. It was now clear that he was no longer alone in the Underworld, and it was inevitable that he would soon enough come face to face with others like himself who were dwelling in the tunnels, and no doubt planned to do unspeakable things.

Oswald realized as he heard distinct sounds of struggle, not too far from him, perhaps several yards away. The sounds came from another tunnel entrance that crossed the path he was on. He had two choices, he realized. He could carefully and quietly sneak pass the people in the adjoining tunnel and hope that he remains unseen and continue on his way, in hopes that it was the proper way out of Gotham. Or he could decide to somehow con his way, or better yet take on the woman's accusers and perhaps take their money, and resources. He was a great man with a knife, even in his injured state and doubted that the people he would encounter were other homeless or vagrants as easily killed as the first one he encountered near the bay.

Covered in the darkness that surrounded him, Oswald used the tunnel walls to guide him, as well as the faint light from a tunnel entrance. He could still hear the woman yelling and struggling to remove her attackers from her. He stopped again, against the tunnel wall, knowing full well that at one turn he would come face to face with the scenario. His leg was throbbing more painfully now, and he was certain that the blood drenched the bottom of his pants, and the makeshift tourniquet he tied around it. He set his walking stick against the tunnel wall gently, and slowly leaned forward in anguish to untie and then retie the blood soaked tourniquet on his leg so that he would lose no more blood.

Focus on his resolved, he peered slightly from his position, taking sight of the scenario before him. Two flashlights sat on the ground and illuminated the struggles of a young woman—perhaps similar to his age—as two men in suits made it their goal to threaten her and use her for their wiles.

The sight of such occurrence did not surprise her. Oswald, having worked under Fish Mooney's guidance and in her posse in her 'district' was all too familiar with the sightings of women taking advantage of, or handled roughly by mafia men. He himself, was never one to find pleasure in doing so, but he would not lie if asked if he never stood as a spectator and watched, mainly out of necessity to be accepted by his fellow colleagues, although the very idea of taking advantage of helpless women by force always appalled and sickened him.

What surprised him was the fact that deep in the tunnels he saw two men who appeared to wear the suitings of what could be Maroni's men or at least men from the Fish District. Their suits were black in the limited light, their dark hair slick back, and their speech reminisce of what appeared to be an Italian-like accent.

Oswald expected to see homeless men and a raged vagrant woman, but not the sight that behold him. He observed the situation, his eyes taking in the full picture, and then focusing on the woman in question, as one of the men held her back to him, and the other leering into her face, all before slapping her hard on her left cheek.

At first glance—or perhaps if viewed by one not familiar with the call girls and tricks of Gotham—one would think the woman was just another trick with bad luck, having landed in the hands of the wrong men for the night, who were more interested in doing harm than using her for a night of simple pleasure. No, Oswald thought, she didn't look it at all.

Her dark long hair was tied in a high ponytail and swayed as she was slapped once more on light mocha colored skin which appeared bereft of any bruises prior to their administrations. She wore tight fitting dark blue jeans and knee length brown riding boots. Atop it she wore a lose plain white t-shirt, ripped now at the collar and blood stained, exposing the excessive rise and fall of her breast in a dark green laced bra.

She didn't look like a trick at all, and for a moment he wondered what she had done to warrant the Maroni's men, and he wondered to himself why it even bothered. He stood in the darkness and listened, as he watched them, waiting for an opportune time to appear.

Oswald thought that perhaps his best course of action was to wait for them to finish with the woman. 'Perhaps they'll kill her first,' he thought, thinking that his best course may be to allow them to finish their task, leaving him with only 2 bodies to dispose off afterwards. Then again, this thought unfortunately did not bring about such levity in his spirit, as he looked on again and watched as the woman struggled and fault with all her might.

For a moment a nagging feeling enveloped his chest. Was it pity? Was it empathy for the woman's ill fate? Oswald brushed the thought aside. He was a man that had only one goal and that is to take care of himself and to disappear as he planned. He was not a man to be a savior, especially if it was to save a woman who perhaps made the wrong life choices to be led to her current situation. Oswald learned so quickly that people were not always as they seemed, and he would wager that the woman was not an innocent as she would appear.

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"She fucking tried to claw my eyes out!"

Rubi struggled with all her might to get out of the hold one of the men had on her. She couldn't' give up, she had to fight or else she was no better off than dead.

"Get off me, you bastards!" She spat on the face of the man in front of her.

And he slapped her hard, causing blood to splatter from the corner of her lips.

Rubi looked up at her accuser, as his partner held her against his chest, her arms held tightly behind her. She continued to struggled, but was forcibly stopped as her accuser grabbed her face to look at her.

"Tony, you better get this bitch settled." The voice behind her said, tightening his grip on her hands to an excruciating hold.

'Tony' hardened his grasp of her face, until his fingers were digging deep on her cheeks and Rubi had no choice but to meet his angry and manic eyes.

"You thought you could hide from us bitch?"

"F – mp Y-mp.." Rubi's voice was muffled as she sneered at him, she struggled again and tried to knee him. Tony released her face and took a step back to admire his handiwork. The woman had spunk, he gave her that, noting the many bruises appearing at her arms, legs, and the blood drawing from her nose and lips. They knocked her around pretty good, but she was still adamant that she'd stand her ground. 'Well, this bitch has it coming,' he thought sickly as he took out his gun.

Rubi stopped in her struggles and stared at the barrel of the gun, pointed directly at her.

"Yeah, Tony, show her how it's done. That shut her up!"

"Shut up, Roe!" Tony spat, running a hand through his dark hair, stepping closer now, until the gun was placed at Rubi's forehead.

"So... what was that you was saying, sweet heart?" he sneered, his one hand running a trail from her bruised cheek and slowly down into the valley of her exposed breast. Rubi shrugged his hand away as best she could, but he did nothing but roughly grasp her left breast, squeezing harshly before letting go.

"You was saying 'Fuck you'? To me? Right?"

Rubi said nothing, her heart racing within her chest. Was this how she was going to die? At the hands of these crooks who found her in her attempts to hide from their boss. What were they going to do once they had their way with her and kill her? What would they say to their boss Kingsley? That they never found her, or that she fell under the hands of some vagrant in the tunnels? Would anyone even find her in these tunnels? She thought.

"Well look, Tony, she ain't saying shit now," Roe laughed crudely in her ears.

"Well, we'll see what noises are going to be coming out of these sweet lips when we're done with her." Tony ran the barrel of the gun slowly over her lips.

"Please..." Rubi pleaded, knowing full well it wouldn't do anything. She hated herself for doing so, but the words came from her very lips as she shivered in fear—her traitorous body—knowing full well that her mind had excepted her impending demise. "Please...don't...I'll go back."

"Too late, darling," Tony sheathed back his gun on his back pocket. "We're going to have ourselves some fun here—Roe and I—then maybe, just maybe, if you were kind we'd actually take you back to Kingsley."

"Please don't..." She pleaded. She knew by the look in his eyes what he planned to do. They were going to rape her then and there, in the Underworld, where no one could hear her scream or struggle, a place where no one would find her body if they killed her—which she was certain they would. Their boss Kingsley wasn't one to take kindly on his men taking advantage of his chosen 'pets'... then again, Rubi was certain that of all his chosen playthings she was the first to ever escape long before he had his way with them, she was the only one who was able to run away—or so she thought.

Roe grabbed her and spun her around until he faced her, her hands lose, she pushed against his chest before he could lower his head to lick and kiss her neck, but as she as she did so, her hands were grabbed once more by Tony, who this time used his lose tie to tightly bound her hands behind her.

"Not that easy, bitch!" Roe said slapping her once more until she was released from Tony's grasp and fell back on the solid wet ground of the tunnel, her hand tied behind her.

Both men loomed over her, laughing heartily at their handiwork. She looked around her in search of anything to hit them with, but found that their was nothing in sight. She inched herself backwards. She forced herself to hold her dignity, to not give them the pleasure of seeing her cry, or beg again for her life...and yet the tears fell from her eyes, and this seemed to bring amount more levity to the men in front of her.

"Roe, hold her steady. I'll go first."

Roe did as told and knelt behind Rubi. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her roughly back, until her back was to the solid wet ground and she was laying back. She screamed and cursed and struggled, but Roe held on tightly to her shoulders.

Tony stood towering over her, his teeth gleaming white with his large maniacal smile as she slowly watch her eyes widen as he unzipped his pants.

"Yes, bitch, I am going to have so much fun with you." He knelt before her, his hands grabbing at her legs as Rubi fault kicking and screaming but to no avail as he successfully forced her shoes off and then her jeans until she laid their exposed in her green underwear.

Rubi thought she was going to be sick, her throat hurt from her screams and yet she continued to scream until her voice was so hoarse. Tony slowly rubbed the tip of his cock teasingly on the sides of her thigh, and Rubi looked up at the sight of Roe grinning at her in the same evil way.

Rubi at that moment prayed that she had died already instead of what was to await her. Tony's hands grabbed the edges of her underwear and slowly pulled it down. Rubi closed her eyes tightly biting away the tears that fell down her cheeks, the taste first salty. Tony and Roe's words of belittlement and crassness fading into muffled sounds, as she felt was she about to pass out, and then just as she was about to fade away, she felt the hold on her shoulder disappeared, and she felt the scrambling back of Tony away from her.

"What the fuck!?" She heard Tony's voice.

Opening her eyes slowly she saw the wide eyes of Roe looking down at her, his eyes looked onward and lifeless. She felt a droplet slowly fall on her cheek, and noted the metallic taste and after blinking her eyes several times noted that it was not her tears, but blood. Struggling along to move herself, she looked up and saw Roe had a line of red across his neck, where blood slowly oozed and for a moment Rubi wondered if this was a dream, and wondered who would have killed him.

Her hearing coming back to her as she painfully and slowly rolled herself over. She saw in the walls the shadows that played and the sound of Tony speaking to someone. She didn't know what transpired, her eyes still blurry. She blinked again, this time as if cold water splashed her to her senses she found the strength to pull herself up, and with much success untying her hands from the bound that had gotten lose. Her hands free she inched close to the dead body of Roe, searching for a gun she was certain he kept in his pocket.

Finding it, she scaled the fall, towards the noise of struggle. She heard Tony yelling at someone unknown at another section of the tunnel, the pathway that they had initially come from.

"Who the fuck are you?" Tony yelled in the darkness, shooting several shots, the gun fire briefly illuminating the tunnel. He saw the man in question, slopped against the tunnel wall, and he ran towards him.

Rubi knew that Tony was going to kill her savior, if he was not dead already.

"Wait!" Her voice echoed in the darkness and halted Tony's trek. He turned to her, at the sound of her voice and saw the faint light from the other tunnel illuminate her from the back.

Rubi stood, her gun drawn and without a second thought fired on. The gun shots several times firing onto Tony's body until his body fell into the ground with a splash from the water on the tunnel entrance.

Rubi stood motionless for a moment, her gun still held up and steady until it shook and she dropped her gun. She crumbled to the ground and she found herself crying loudly, the thought that her savior—whoever he was—was far dead and gone, and that of all things she had been saved from what she had thought would be her end.

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Oswald stood motionless against the tunnel wall, covered in the darkness. His breathe was heavy, his heart pounding in his chest. What led him to save the woman was nothing at all but an act for him to obtain the resources he needed. He did not, however, counter the fact that his ability to kill with his knife was not as fast as he had hoped due to his current injury. That, he thought, was something that he was still needing to accustom to. While his mind remained sharp, his body had yet to obtain the proper rest needed, as he was one to have loss a lot of blood.

His body weak, he slowly crumbled to the wet floor, his legs splayed in front of him. His eyes caught the sight of the woman as she stood, first holding tightly to the gun that shot her killer (and in term saving him as well), and then crumbling to the floor in tears. He was certain that she had all very well thought that today was the day that she was to die, unknown to her that her very savior had also such a very similar near-death experience.

_How __interesting_, Oswald thought, a wry smile in his lips. This time his head began to feel a bit dizzy, and he blinked his eyes to keep them open. Perhaps he was to die in the very ratchet tunnels, right after doing a good deed. He was certain his mother would be proud of her Ozzy after all. And in return he would still instill in Gordon the fear that he was still out there somewhere, planning to return to Gotham, when in fact his body was left forgotten in the realms of the Underworld... So perhaps after all, Oswald would die the winner.

The thought made him laugh, and the sound came from his lips until his slight snickering turned into a cough. And of course, the woman heard him from her stance. He watched her get up from her stance.

"Are you there?" she called out loud. "Are—are you okay?"

Oswald was growing weary now.

He watched as her shadow dissipated into the entrance of the other tunnel, where the light came from and she returned with a flashlight as she shown in towards his direction. Finally it fell on him, his eyes closed now and yet he felt the warmed of the flashlight over his cool flesh.

He heard her footsteps towards him and lastly he saw the mix of emotion—fear, concern, confusion, gratitude—flash before her green eyes—or were they gray?-before the darkness overtook him and Oswald Cobblepot fell into oblivion.


End file.
